Author: Curt Bowen

In a windowless room in the basement of a church, an older man taught a Sunday school class. I had my suit and tie on and had arrived just in time, having traveled specifically to hear this particular person teach. He was considered one of the leading defenders of Christianity and, without question, the smartest person I have ever personally met.

I asked a question so obscure that I was almost embarrassed to bring it up. I wanted to know whether we were warranted in praying for events in the past. Not only did he understand my question, but he had actually written about it in a professional journal and even had a name for it: retrospective prayer.

I’m not a Taylor Swift fan, but I think I know how one feels. I had been following this philosopher and theologian for years and was an unabashed theological “Swiftie.”

After class, I ended up going to lunch with a group of regular attendees. I sat next to a younger gentleman and got to know him. He shared my passion for theology, apologetics, and philosophy.

At one point, he opened his backpack and pulled out N.T. Wright’s monumental book The Resurrection of the Son of God. This is not light reading. In fact, it’s 817 pages of some of the finest modern scholarship on the historical facts surrounding the death and resurrection of Christ.

When my new friend informed me that he had read the entire book over the weekend, I was stunned.

I reflected on something during the drive home that day.

The way that young man interacted with God was through his mind.

There are all sorts of ways to connect with God. Some people have a passion for music and experience God through lyrics, chords, and melodies. Others worship God through study. Personally, I find that I connect with God when I travel to remote places, hike through nature, and simply listen.

God spoke to people in Scripture through dreams, the testimony of others, and even burning bushes. It occurs to me that if God spoke through only one means, we might be tempted to worship the vehicle of the message rather than the Messenger Himself.

And so, God may speak in many different ways to different people.

Here’s the key takeaway:

1. Where do you hear God the loudest?
2. Wherever that is, go there—and go there during this newly allotted time we call the Sabbath.

We started this week with a simple premise: if you’re not observing the Sabbath, you’re missing out.

Not on a rule.

On something God designed specifically for you.

We put it on the calendar first. We asked what would make it feel genuinely different from the other six days. We gave ourselves permission to stop debating what counts as work and start asking what actually depletes us versus what fills us up.

And now we arrive at the most personal question of all:

Where do you hear God the loudest?

For one man, it’s 817 pages of dense theology. For another, it’s boots on a trail with nothing but wind and altitude. A chord progression. A quiet porch. A crowded room full of people who need help.

The Sabbath isn’t just a day off. It’s a standing appointment.

God has been showing up every single week.

The only question is whether you do too.

You’ve blocked the day. You’ve set it apart. Now do one final thing with that time:

Go where you hear Him.

And listen.

Ask Yourself:

• Where is the place or activity where God feels most present and real to you?

• Is that thing currently part of your Sabbath, or is it buried beneath everything that needs to stop?

 

In 1920, the number one dream job for a young child was to be a cowboy. Frankly, I don’t really understand how cowboys made money. Most of my knowledge on the subject comes from Looney Tunes cartoons and the movie Tombstone. The remaining top five dream jobs, in order, were:

1. Cowboy
2. Firefighter
3. President
4. Police Officer
5. Explorer

If I asked you to guess what they are today, you’d be right to assume they’re completely different. Not a single one is the same. In 2026, kids’ dream jobs were:

1. YouTuber
2. Professional Athlete
3. Superhero
4. AI Engineer
5. Programmer

If I’m being honest, with the exception of a handful of influencers like Mr. Beast, I’m not sure YouTubers have figured out the income thing much better than cowboys did.

But whether the dream job is wrangling cattle or chasing subscribers, the point is the same: work looks completely different today than it did even a generation ago, let alone in the days of Israel.

Which brings up a question:

What is work?

It’s not exactly clear.

You could define work as something tied to economic benefit, but then again, unpaid activities such as volunteering seem like work too. Jesus appears to be asking this very question when He asks, “Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do harm?”

Another question we might ask is this: Must an activity be revitalizing or restful in order to not be considered work?

Jesus certainly thought it was acceptable to heal on the Sabbath—or to pull your ox out of a ditch. So perhaps the answer is no. Abstaining from work does not necessarily mean engaging only in activities that are restful or rejuvenating.

I have a family member who serves every single weekend at MUST Ministries. I worked the pickup line back in May and was utterly exhausted after just one shift.

She has a very different personality than I do, though. She is an extremely sociable person—the type of person you want greeting guests at church. What I find exhausting, she finds revitalizing.

In fact, as I think about Jesus’ healings, perhaps He too was revitalized by serving others.

The point is this: don’t get hung up on what counts as work for you personally. There may be all sorts of activities—serving, creating, helping others—that would drain someone else but are perfectly life-giving for you.

Don’t let someone else’s definition of work or rest become your rule.

What depletes others might be exactly what fills you up.

Ask Yourself:

• Think about something you do—serving, creating, or helping others—that most people would call “work” but that actually energizes you. What does that reveal about how God uniquely wired you?

I had just finished paying the monthly bills at work when I got a call from my wife. She had been at the dentist for the past several hours with our two young boys.

It was not good news.

Each one had several cavities, and the bills were massive. It seemed that every trip to the dentist resulted in cavities these days, no matter how much we focused on brushing.

I hit something of a breaking point.

That evening, I announced to the family that there would be no more sugar. We were now a completely sugar-free family.

It went over about as well as if I had announced that the family dog was being given away.

My wife spoke with me that evening and asked if we could maybe soften the rule. She wasn’t opposed to limiting sugar, but could we perhaps have ONE day when the kids were allowed to eat it?

And thus, Sugar Day was born.

We picked Saturday as the family’s Sugar Day. Six days of meats, vegetables, and carbs; one day of cake, ice cream, and candy.

And voilà—the cavities went away.

The word holy means “to separate” or “to set apart.” Essentially, if you want the Sabbath to be holy, it needs to look and feel different from the other six days of the week.

That’s going to look very different for each person. It may even look different for the same person at different points in life.

What I liked about Sugar Day was that it got the entire family looking forward to the Sabbath. I remember showing up in the morning with a box of donuts and watching the kids go wild. It created natural launching points for conversations about what the Sabbath is and about who God is.

To answer Isaiah’s question, we delighted in the day.

The obvious caveat is that I’m not promoting sin. I’m not saying it’s okay to get drunk on the Sabbath. Rather, there are all sorts of activities that require discipline, effort, or willpower that we can choose to schedule around the Sabbath.

I have a friend who thoroughly enjoys running. For some people, running six days a week and not having to get out of bed on the seventh would be rejuvenating. For him, it would be the opposite.

Think through the following as possible starting points:

Would my ideal Sabbath include:

• More technology or less?

• Stimulation or relaxation?

• Sleeping in or getting out?

• More people or fewer people?

• Noise or silence?

• Indoors or outdoors?

• Familiar or new?

• Scheduled or unstructured?

• Spiritual discipline or spiritual spontaneity?

The list is endless.

The point isn’t to get the Sabbath right. The point is to get it started.

God didn’t bless the seventh day because it was perfect. He blessed it because He set it apart. Your job is simply to do the same.

Pick something. Try it. See if it draws you toward rest, toward people, and toward Him. You can always adjust.

After all, the day was made for you.

Ask Yourself:

• If you designed your ideal Sabbath starting this week, what would be the first thing on it and the first thing off it?

• What does your soul reach for when it has nothing to do?

 

During its heyday, and before it was bought out by corporate interests, I listened to every single BiggerPockets podcast. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s an online resource for all things real estate. I’ve said this many times, but despite having a degree in real estate from the Terry College of Business at UGA, I learned a hundred times more from that podcast than I ever did from my degree.

The cohosts would interview a guest—sometimes a firefighter flipping houses on the side, sometimes a commercial developer with decades of experience—and then dig for insights. At the end of each episode was their “Famous Four”: four questions they asked every guest.

1. What is your favorite real estate book?
2. What is your favorite business book?
3. What are your hobbies?
4. What sets apart successful investors from those who give up, fail, or never get started?

I don’t think it was ever officially tallied, but the book most often cited was generally agreed to be Rich Dad Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki. However, I believe the second most-cited book was probably The One Thing by Gary Keller, co-founder of Keller Williams.

Keller’s main thesis was to identify “the ONE thing” and focus on it relentlessly until it was accomplished. When starting a business, most people worry about business cards, designing a logo, or attending networking events. But what if the ONE thing most likely to make everything else easier—or unnecessary—was simply making sales calls?

Keller’s point was that by focusing first on your most important task, even at the expense of everything else, the other things would either become easier or irrelevant.

He even had a color-coded system for his calendar. The ONE thing was written in red ink, leisure was blue ink, and meetings, busywork, and other routine tasks were black ink. I still have three gel pens in those colors clipped to my paper calendar to this day.

And he was very clear about the order in which those colors should hit the page.

He insisted that the very first color to fill your calendar should be:

BLUE INK

The leisure color. The vacations. The downtime.

The founder of the largest real estate company on the planet—and Mr. Focus himself—suggested time-blocking your rest before anything else.

What if we did that with our Sabbaths?

Using a paper-based calendar forces you to realize that time is limited. What goes on first pushes out what goes on second.

When I began blocking off days with the word SABBATH, I quickly noticed a problem. I had scheduled it on Sunday, which was also the day we hosted our couples group. Much of the day was spent cleaning, preparing materials, and cooking food. I quickly realized that by the end of the day, it hardly felt as though we had rested or been refreshed.

This is probably similar for many church staff members whose Sundays are filled with responsibilities from morning until evening.

So, we made the decision to observe the Sabbath on Saturday.

I’m aware that the Sabbath was originally observed on Saturday and that the early church shifted corporate worship to Sunday to celebrate the resurrection. That seemed like a good and appropriate decision for the early church. But if they had the freedom to make that adjustment corporately, I don’t see why I couldn’t do so individually if it meant I would actually observe the Sabbath.

Regardless, that’s not the point.

The point is that the first step toward making a day of rest real and effective is to put it on your calendar. Just as eliminating time spent on business cards in order to make sales calls requires telling ourselves “no,” blocking out a full day for Sabbath requires the same thing.

The Hebrew calendar refers to the Sabbath as a מוֹעֵד (moed), meaning an “appointed time.” God essentially put it on His calendar and invited Israel to show up.

The implication is simple: if it’s not on your calendar, you’ve declined the appointment.

Ask Yourself:

• What would happen if I wrote the word SABBATH in all caps on one day of my calendar every week?

• How strong is my ability to say “no”? Is it harder to tell myself “no” or to tell others “no”? Which obligations would be the most difficult to decline, and how could I do so politely but firmly?

I once had lunch with a friend who serves as a pastor at another church. The church was doing well, and people were being saved. I’ve never been on a church staff myself, but I have known many who have. Ministry has been described to me as one of the most difficult jobs you never want to quit. Every person I’ve known in ministry has been an extremely hard worker, and this friend was no exception.

There was just one problem as our conversation continued.

He was utterly exhausted.

I mean the kind of exhaustion you can see on someone’s face. It prompted me to ask him a simple question:

“How is your Sabbath?”

“Terrible,” he replied.

I’ll share with you over the next week what I shared with him, but there’s one overarching theme to my view of the Sabbath:

If you’re not observing the Sabbath, you’re missing out.

It isn’t another checkbox to mark off each week; it’s the complete opposite. It’s the absence of checkboxes. If the Sabbath is meant to be enjoyed and was designed for man—not man for the Sabbath—then why wouldn’t you want to keep it? You may need to change some settings on your phone, decline a few appointments, or let the house get a little dusty. It may feel like work is piling up for 24 hours, but you can accomplish more with six days and God than with seven days on your own.

One disclaimer: while some teachings about the Sabbath seem clear, others are not quite so obvious. “Do not work” seems fairly straightforward, but “What counts as work?” may not be. We need to approach different people and situations with humility and grace. So, if I describe ways that my family and I have found helpful in observing the Sabbath, feel free to adapt them—or disregard them entirely. After all, the moment you create a definitive list of do’s and don’ts surrounding the Sabbath, you begin to sound an awful lot like the Pharisees and their traditions.

Having said that, let’s make sure you don’t miss out.

Ask Yourself:

• Do I observe the Sabbath? Do I view it as another checkbox or as the absence of checkboxes?

• Do I enjoy the Sabbath? If it came up in conversation, would I describe it as a “delight” the way Isaiah did?

 

Tackling pride can be a soul-searching, messy process. If pride truly is the first sin, then it is also the most universal sin. As I reflected on this week’s verses, one in particular grabbed my attention because it stood in contrast to the others.

I do not know whether Greek has a specific word for party, but that certainly seems to be what Levi was hosting after he decided to follow Jesus. If I invited you over to my house and told you that not only would there be chicken wings, chips and dip, and a fruit and veggie spread, but that Henry’s was catering the rest of the meal with its entire menu, you would probably ask, “So when do I show up to the party?”

A large group of people. A great feast. Reclining at the table.

I did not grow up Christian. I had this idea that Christians were sort of like Ned Flanders from The Simpsons, dry, stale characters you could tolerate but would not go out of your way to be around. Not many parties happening at the Flanders house.

Do you know what changed that?

Beginning at Easter 2008, it was the men I met at NorthStar Church. Some are still there, while many have moved on to other churches and cities. Men like Mike, C.A., Marlon, Jamie, Daniel, and many others. I saw a masculinity that was strong yet grace-filled. They walked upright, but they still laughed. They would plan marriage retreats in fun cities and then turn around and feed children who would not have a meal once school let out.

That became my goal for every group we ever led, and it can be summed up in two words:

Depth and fun.

If it is deep but not fun, eventually you burn out, and then the depth no longer matters. If it is fun without depth, it becomes shallow, and you are anchored to nothing.

I have always had this thought: if it is really deep, we need to find a way to make it more fun; and if it is fun, we need to find a way to add depth.

I cannot remember who came up with the idea, but our couples group had an annual tradition of grabbing Thanksgiving bags for the Big Give and all showing up at ALDI at the same time. We would count down, then each family would race through the store trying to fill the list as fast as possible and be the first family to finish.

There may have been a little underhandedness, with items mysteriously disappearing from other contestants’ carts (looking at you, Fishers), but I cannot tell you how gratifying it was to walk out those doors laughing, get our quarters back, and gather around a large table at Buffalo’s or the much-missed Lulu’s.

And in the middle of a difficult lesson on surrendering pride, God wanted us to notice that Levi threw a party for Jesus and his friends.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Where do the deep, meaningful things I am doing to build God’s kingdom need more fun? Where are the fun things I love doing, and how can I add purpose to them?

SOUL: Would I describe my relationship with God as deep, fun, or both?

STRENGTH: This week, identify one person or group you have been meaning to invest in and plan something enjoyable with no agenda other than being together. Depth does not always need a curriculum. Sometimes it just needs a table, a meal, and enough time to laugh. Then show up.

May today you go in peace, surrendered to God’s sight, that which is good, free from shame and pride, and go deep — but have fun.

“Do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10 ESV

 

Is pride merely a sin, or is pride the sin?

There is a term in philosophy called ontology, which is the study of the nature of reality itself. It seeks an anchor to reality, often called grounding. In the same way that we might ask why a person has unexpectedly lost weight and has elevated liver enzymes, an oncologist may discover that cancer is grounding those symptoms, and then ask an even deeper question: what caused the cancer?

The church father Augustine viewed pride as the first sin. Not merely that it was the first sin committed in the garden by Adam and Eve, but that it is ontologically the grounding of all other sin.

Because what is pride?

Pride is a manifestation of the ego that lifts the self above God.

Pride does not merely question God; pride accuses God.

If Jesus was divine, then the Pharisees and their scribes were quite literally telling God, You are doing something wrong. You should be doing things our way.

But perhaps that sounds too far-fetched, you might say. They did not know Jesus was God at the time. He was simply another rabbi in their eyes.

But that is precisely the point about pride: we are always limited in knowledge.

You never know whether the neighbor you are judging for neglecting their yard is actually in and out of chemotherapy treatments. Every person you speak to, whether in real life or online, carries a deep and detailed story you do not know.

I had a business partner working on a deal with me in the summer of 2025. Certain things were promised, but the arrangement fell apart when he took a leave of absence. Then an email arrived in my inbox, sharply rebuking both him and me. Use your imagination.

What the sender did not know was that my partner’s leave of absence was because he was trying to move his wife into a new facility in Oklahoma after chemotherapy had stopped working. She met Jesus that September, leaving behind four children, all under the age of twelve.

The person who wrote that email did not know.

And I am not angry with him, because I have done the same thing. I am as guilty as anyone of pride. I can be sneaky, quick to judge, and arrogant because I think I have figured it all out.

Pride is the hardest sin to diagnose because it is like an anchor resting on the ocean floor at the end of a long chain, while all we notice is the ship being tossed on the surface.

If you want to truly sail, you need humility.

A humble heart assumes the best in others until proven otherwise and holds itself with the strictest modesty possible.

The smartest people I have ever met say this phrase more than anyone else:

“I don’t know.”

Satan ultimately could not elevate himself to equality with God because he did not know what God knew, he only thought he did.

None of us will ever fully know, and there is freedom in admitting what reality imposes upon us:

God is all-knowing. I am not.

If He says it, I believe it. If He calls me, I will obey.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Is there a friend, family member, neighbor, celebrity, politician, or someone else you have judged while knowing only part of their story?

SOUL: Have you accused God? Not questioned Him, but said something like, “God, if only You had…”

STRENGTH: This week, before you send that email, make that call, or fire off that response, pause and ask what you may not know about the other person’s story. Then decide.

May you go in peace today, surrendered to humility.

13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted. Luke 18:13–14 ESV

 

Have you ever wondered what the difference is between making a decision and surrendering? If NorthStar had chosen to do 30 Days of Decisions, it would have quite a different ring to it, wouldn’t it?

One of the clearest places this question reaches the heart is in addiction, because addictive substances and behaviors are often very difficult to simply decide not to pursue. The troubling reality is that a decision made now can be undone later. In fact, you can make ninety-nine correct decisions to turn away from addiction, but as long as the hundredth decision moves toward it, you find yourself right back in the trap.

How exhausting.

The primary mover in a decision seems to be myself. In surrender, it seems to be an outside force. Think of surrender on a battlefield. It is really one decisive act, not one hundred separate decisions.

You could argue that there are degrees of surrender. Perhaps it is helpful to surrender certain aspects of my will daily, especially the parts I know will benefit both myself and others. But on the other hand, I have found what could be called complete surrender to be the most freeing.

I do not have complete surrender in every area of my life. There are many areas where I wish I did. But in the few places where I truly have surrendered, it is marvelous.

I surrendered intimacy with any other woman when I got married. I do not wake up each day wondering, Should I stay with my wife? Should I leave her? For me, that was a one-time surrender.

I surrendered my life to Christ on Easter 2008 during Mike’s prayer at the end of the service. I do not question each morning whether I am going to follow the Lord. I am simply His.

That is why I say surrender is marvelous, though I fully admit it can also be frustrating. Decisions can feel like flipping light switches in your house. Complete surrender is more like jumping off a cliff into water. It is the irreversible nature of the act that makes surrender difficult to replicate.

In twelve-step programs, I would argue that the functionally greatest step is the third one, which says:

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

Notice, it says made a decision, not made many decisions.

Similarly, Jesus used a simple phrase to invite people into surrender:

“Follow me.”

And Luke tells us that Levi left everything and followed Jesus.

Complete surrender.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Am I exhausted by repeated decisions in that one stubborn area where I just cannot seem to break through? Have I made ninety-nine right decisions only to stumble on the hundredth? Could that one area be calling me to do what Levi did and leave everything to follow Jesus?

SOUL: Am I willing to choose complete surrender instead of endlessly flipping light switches? Am I willing to make the jump?

STRENGTH: While complete surrender is a one-time act, the walk still continues. Wives still appreciate flowers. Jesus still delights in your prayers. Addictions require rebuilding what counterfeit comforts once stole. Am I willing to keep putting one foot in front of the other and continue walking from this place of surrender?

May you go in peace today, surrendered to what is good.

“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
Galatians 2:20 ESV

 

What does it mean for something to be wrong? The challenge is that there are many ways we use the word wrong, and they do not all carry the same meaning.

The quarterback called the wrong play. Then they drew a penalty for lining up in the wrong formation. They would have had a first down, but the receiver ran the wrong route. None of these uses of the word indicate doing something morally wrong, yet we often treat them as if they do, don’t we?

Can’t you just picture the receiver after the play, frustrated with himself because he ran a post route instead of a crossing route? Maybe it cost them the game, and suddenly something appears in his consciousness that was not there before:

SHAME.

And shame does not always come from within. Can’t you almost feel the awkwardness in the room as the Pharisees scrutinized the tax collectors and sinners? Sometimes shame is handed to us by people who think their righteousness gives them that right.

It is in vogue to demonize shame, and for some good reasons. Shame can be a crippling emotion and hold us back in many areas of life. I have even sat through seminars declaring that we should never feel shame whatsoever. Those seminars were completely secular, which led me to a larger theological question: should we ever feel shame?

Let’s add one more detail to our football story. The receiver, upset with himself, suddenly grabs the cornerback’s facemask, rips off his helmet, and slams it to the ground. Before, we were talking about wrong in the sense of being functionally wrong or procedurally wrong. But now the wide receiver has done something morally wrong.

As I left that seminar and reflected on what I know from Scripture, something occurred to me:

Shame and repentance are not the same thing.

Shame is an emotion. Repentance is an act of the will.

Shame is the man walking down the street toward the familiar drug house and all the sins associated with it, muttering to himself, “I’m such an idiot. Why am I doing this again? I’m worthless.”

Repentance is him stopping in his tracks and saying, “No more.” Then turning and walking back toward the sober living house.

It seems to me that shame is clearly inappropriate in several situations. That man who has turned around and is walking back toward sobriety should not continue beating himself up. If you are forgiven and have repented, shame is no longer the appropriate response.

Nor should the tight end condemn himself because he lined up in the backfield and drew a penalty for illegal formation. Functional and procedural wrongs do not warrant shame.

The problem with shame is that it is an emotion, and emotions can be wildly deceptive. We can all picture the hardened criminal on death row who feels no shame, while also thinking of the mother working tirelessly for her family who seems to feel it constantly.

It seems to me that the time shame is most appropriate is when it precedes true repentance, whether at salvation or after salvation. Even then, whatever grief is experienced is far outweighed by the benefits of turning back to God.

That secular seminar declared that we should feel no shame. The implicit reason seemed to be this: at rock bottom, there is no right or wrong, so why feel bad if moral wrongs do not actually exist?

But moral wrongs do exist, and deep down, we all know it.

If you are saved by the blood of Jesus and have repented of your sins, then shame is a lie you no longer have to believe. What that secular conference asserted, you can declare with even greater confidence because Jesus provides what they could not: the means to remove guilt and free you from shame.

As a Christian, you can not only be free from shame, but uniquely grounded in that freedom.

Ask yourself:

HEART: Am I suffering from unnecessary shame? Do I feel it when someone honks at me, even when I have done nothing morally wrong? Listen to the voice in your head. Do you beat yourself up internally? Would you ever allow someone else to say to you what you say to yourself?

SOUL: Am I feeling shame because the Holy Spirit is asking me to repent of something morally wrong that I have done? Remember, the world will tell you that shame can be defeated either by denying the wrong or by outperforming it. But the only thing that truly cleanses wrongdoing is Jesus.

STRENGTH: Do not let sin linger. Repent quickly, because repentance turns grief into peace.

May you go in peace today, surrendered to repentance and then freed from shame.

“For the Scripture says, ‘Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.'”
Romans 10:11 ESV

 

I’m guessing you’re looking at a phone, possibly a monitor or tablet. Take a brief moment and notice: do you see a blank dot in your vision? It should be about the size of a grapefruit held at arm’s length.

Don’t see anything? Good. It’s not there for me either. But technically, it is there for both of us. Your whole life, that grapefruit-sized hole has been blocking what you see every day. It exists because there is a blind spot where the optic nerve attaches to the retina. There are no photoreceptors there, no rods, no cones, no information passed on. So why don’t we see a blank spot?

The brain has a remarkable way of filling in what it believes is missing, almost like the paintbrush tool in Adobe Illustrator. So instead of a hole, you see the full canvas. What an incredible tool our brains are.

However, that raises a question: if our brains are so magnificently designed that they can fill in missing information about the physical world, are they capable of doing the same elsewhere?

The Scriptures contain several instances of Jesus simply seeing people. He saw Levi and asked him to follow Him. Similarly, He saw Nathanael and Zacchaeus. Now contrast that with the sight of the Pharisees:

“Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?”

There is no denying that the people at the party were sinners, although it is worth mentioning that you could ask that question of anyone, including the Pharisees themselves, because all of us are sinners. But what I find more interesting is the part about eating with tax collectors.

It is certainly true that tax collectors were looked down upon because many of them helped themselves, sometimes generously, to the taxes they collected. But I find it hard to believe that all tax collectors acted that way. It is similar to assuming every used car salesman is trying to cheat you.

The Pharisees were seeing reality mostly correctly. Jesus was eating with sinners and with a professional group known for corruption. But Jesus’ response is brilliant. This is one reason why, when non-believers read the Gospels, Jesus is so often described as a captivating figure. He responds:

31 And Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.
32 I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

He did not bend reality. He did not deny their accusation. He filled in the blind spot.

When I lack information about a person, my brain often fills in the missing space. Sometimes correctly, sometimes incorrectly. The wonderful thing about God is that He knows only truth and all truth. What may be an illusion to me is seen plainly by God.

The Pharisees had a grapefruit-sized blind spot labeled “sinners and crooked.” Jesus had a blind spot filled with “sinners in need of repentance.”

Ask yourself:

HEART: How do I see people I do not know? Where might my blind spots be showing up on social media, in the news, or in real life?

SOUL: When I stand before God, He sees me without a blind spot, every part of my story. The parts I hide, the parts I am ashamed of, and the parts I have forgotten are all seen plainly. Does the way I see others reflect the way God sees me? Am I willing to ask Him to fill in my blind spots with truth rather than assumption?

STRENGTH: This week, before forming an opinion about someone online, in the news, or in your neighborhood, pause and name what you do not know about them. Practice saying, “I do not have the full picture here.” Then act toward them as if the missing information is generous rather than condemning.

May you go today in peace, surrendered to God’s sight.

“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.”
1 Samuel 16:7 ESV